Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 887

His voice was rough, tinged with a vulnerability he almost never showed. There was a plea buried in there.

Clara kept her eyes fixed ahead, her tone steady and unyielding. "There's nothing left for us to talk about. We don't belong in the same world."

That last part seemed to trigger something in him. She'd said those exact words before they weren't from the same world. That's how she'd always kept her distance, always refused to let him get close. And now, even after everything, she was still saying it.

He just stood there, silent. The little bit of color that had warmed his face faded fast, leaving him so pale it looked like he might pass out right there.

Jackson stepped forward, grabbing his arm. "Dylan, you need to get some rest. Come on."

Dylan glanced at Clara, his lips twitching like he wanted to say something. One hand pressed carefully against his side.

Clara took a breath, her voice calm. "While you're still with it, let's go. We need to get the divorce papers at Palm Bay. If we wait any longer, the office might close."

"Clara!" Jackson snapped, his eyes flashing. There was a hard edge in his voice

now.

Dylan's whole body went rigid. Sweat stood out on his forehead, and for a second, the whole world seemed to tilt.

him just in time, panic

but he was shaking, his skin slick

him a glance, then looked away almost immediately. "Fine. You can stay here. I'll go to Palm

even human? He's about to collapse, and you still want to drag him off to get divorced? Is your heart

say anything. She just stood there, silent and

and over.

now. When I'm better, we'll go.

words were so soft, so tentative, it

back. She just got in her car. "Alright. Mr. Dylan, when you're feeling better, let

she started the engine and drove

grip. He crumpled, eyes

the hospital, his mind racing. Only then did he realize how bad it was—the

You need to be extra careful-don't get it wet and watch for infection. If it gets worse, it

barely speak. He just nodded, trying

bandages were on, Jackson sat at Dylan's

on with you and

face ghost-white, sweat still clinging to

he